I Want to Go Home
by thegenuineimitation
Summary: Harry Potter has always been an exceptional boy. Exceptionally difficult that is. Though highly intelligent and skilled in almost everything Harry has never been a social animal. Going to boarding school, even though it's a magic one, is not his idea of a good time. AU. Challenge Response.
1. Chapter 1

**I Want to Go Home**

**Chapter One: The Train Ride**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Gordon Korman's "I Want to Go Home". While not a crossover per se this story borrows liberally from Mr. Korman's esteemed character Rudy Miller who is not of my creation.

**Author's Note:** Hey guys! If you're a follower, then yes I'm at it again. This is yet another what if Hogwarts re-write and is to be my submission for both the Different House Challenge and the What If Challenge on HPFC. Certain chapters will also be submitted for the Things I'm not allowed to do at Hogwarts challenge, also on HPFC, and they will be labelled accordingly. I do not expect updates to occur with any regularity but I hope you all enjoy despite this fact!

TIME SHIFT: The Year is 2011, because I want to incorporate modern technology.

* * *

It was a rare and lovely, sunny first of September and in the car park of King's Cross station a dark-haired boy with a blank-faced expression sat in the back of a small black car with his earphones in ignoring the world. Standing by the passenger-side rear door Lou and Frank Fleming, the boy's parents, shared a meaningful glance.

Frank opened the door and Lou hooked a pinky finger around the cord of the earphone nearest to her and tugged it free of her son's ear.

"Come on Harry, we're here."

"I am aware of that," said the boy, named Harry, mildly.

"Harry," said Frank patiently, "We've had this discussion."

"Then you understand."

"We understand," agreed Lou Fleming and before either her husband or her son could blink she had the music player in hand and was striding off towards the trains, "You can have it back when you get on the train," she called back over her shoulder.

"Well," said Frank blinking at his wife's retreating form, "That's that I suppose."

"Looks like," agreed Harry with a small nod as he got out of the car.

Frank loaded Harry's brand new school trunk onto a trolley and began wheeling it into the station.

About a month previous, just after Harry's eleventh birthday, a bubbly woman named Professor Charity Burbage had come to their house in Surrey and informed Harry that he was a wizard. Harry's parents were not as surprised as they might have been as when they'd found him wandering the streets of Little Whinging one chilly November evening ten years ago he'd come with a monogrammed blankie and a rather bizarre letter.

Lou and Frank were both of the opinion that boarding school, particularly boarding school that would cut down on the number of unexplainable incident reports that accompanied his behavioural reports home from school, would be good for him. There was no denying that Harry was exceptional. The problem was he was also exceptionally difficult and had trouble interacting with kid's his own age. The Flemings had tried everything, team sports, study groups, arranged play-dates, private school, nothing seemed to help. They were hoping that living the majority of the year with other kids would start to sort things out.

Harry had no interest in boarding school of any kind, even one that taught magic, and had resisted their decision every step of the way but the Flemings were adamant. They had all accompanied Professor Burbage to a place called Diagon Alley, where he learned that he had a trust fund for school from his biological parents and a fortune waiting in the wings when he turned 17, and picked up a number of strange school supplies. They also learned the reason why Harry had been found wandering the dark streets of Little Whinging, why everyone who heard the name Harry Potter gasped and fawned and where Harry had received the curious lightning shaped cut on his forehead.

All of this just made Harry all the more determined not to go to Hogwarts.

King's Cross station was packed with people of all sorts hurrying to and fro dragging luggage and shouting to be heard over the racket of their fellow travellers. Lou wasn't too far off her nose buried in the introductory booklet Professor Burbage had given her, apparently it was a useful guide for non-magical parents.

"Alright your ticket says the school train leaves from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," Frank said reading off the ticket stub, "Its half past so we have plenty of time."

Harry glanced up at the platform numbers.

"It doesn't look like they've built the platform yet, Mum," Harry said to Lou, "We'd better turn back."

"Nonsense," said Lou, "It says right here in the guide that the platform is hidden, we just have to walk straight through the barrier between platform's nine and ten without stopping."

"That sounds dangerous, what if I'm gravely injured in the attempt?" asked Harry neutrally.

"It's not, and you won't be," answered Lou cheerily without missing a beat.

She was well used to her son's attitude. She took him firmly by the hand, ignoring his glower, and dragged him through the barrier between platforms nine and ten without incident, Frank following somewhat more sedately with the trunk.

The platform was just beginning to fill up with people and on the tracks, doors ajar, waited a scarlet red steam engine. The sign overhead read Hogwarts Express, Eleven O'clock and behind Harry the barrier had become a wrought iron archway with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it.

"There now, was that so difficult?"

Harry gave his mother a withering look and moved further down the platform so they wouldn't be bowled over by the next person coming through the barrier.

Smoke from the engine swirled around the heads of the chattering crowd as cats of every color wound in and out of people's legs and owls hooted at each other grumpily over the clatter of trolleys, the scraping of heavy trunks and the general babble.

"Someone really ought to call animal control," Harry remarked as he moved deftly through the crowd.

"Don't you want to sit up at the front? I see some other boys that look about your age," suggested Lou.

The front cars were already filling up with people, kids of all varieties hung out of windows to say their last goodbyes to their parents and siblings and some were even outright fighting for seats.

"Thank you, no. Just because I'm here under duress doesn't mean I have to outright torture myself," Harry replied.

"I'm sure it wouldn't be that bad," Frank said wryly.

"I have faith," Harry replied.

The second last compartment of the train was empty and Harry thought it was likely he wouldn't be disturbed for a while. Frank loaded the trunk onto the train and got it up into the luggage rack without any difficulty and then the two males made their way back onto the platform to join Lou.

Lou got her arms around Harry, and before he could escape, hugged him near to death. Harry obligingly wrapped his arms around his mother and returned her hug with a brief squeeze of his own surreptitiously breathing in the citrusy scent of her shampoo.

"Oh, I am going to miss you so much," she said pulling away with watery eyes.

"You could just take me home," Harry pointed out.

"You're not getting off that easy, boyo," said Frank ruffling his hair.

"Promise me you will at least try to have fun and get along with your classmates," said Lou, "And write us at least once a week so we know that you're doing alright."

"I promise," Harry agreed solemnly.

"That's the attitude," said Frank, "You'll have a great time at Hogwarts, just you wait."

"I doubt it Dad, but thanks for the thought."

As promised Lou handed over Harry's iPod before Frank led her from the station, and when he returned to his compartment Harry promptly sprawled himself out over one of the seats and stuck his earphones in closing his eyes.

A few minutes later the warning whistle sounded and the Hogwarts Express began to move. It was around that time that Harry's solitude was abruptly ended. Two boys, both already dressed in their Hogwarts robes tapped on the glass of the sliding door to his compartment and then let themselves in.

Harry kept his eyes firmly shut, hoping that if he just ignored them they might go away.

"Looks like he's asleep," said one, "Let's try further down the line."

"Everywhere else is probably full by now Michael, let's just sit here," said his friend.

"Well what about that guy?"

"He's sleeping and it's not like we're bothering him."

Harry cracked one eye open, pulled out one of his earphones and said without inflection.

"I'm not and you are."

Both boys started at his unexpected interruption and turned to face him, giving Harry his first good look at the squabbling friends. They were both taller than him, not that that was difficult, and had dark brown hair though one's was curly and the other's was straight. The curly haired boy promptly flashed Harry a sheepish smile.

"Sorry to disturb you, do you mind if we sit here? Everywhere else is full."

"It's a free country I suppose," said Harry unconcernedly.

"Is that a yes or a no?" demanded the boy with straight hair.

"Shut up Mikk, it's as close to a yes as we're gonna get out of this one," said the curly-haired boy under his breath jabbing his elbow into his friend's side, "Thanks," he added more loudly for Harry's benefit.

Working together the two boys managed to get both their trunks up into the luggage rack without too much difficulty, Harry suspected there was some spell on their trunks to make them lighter, then they both sat themselves down on the seat across from Harry.

"I'm Terry by the way, Terry Boot," said the curly-haired boy.

Terry Boot's friend got another elbow in the gut before he grunted out his own name, which was Michael Corner.

"I'm Harry," Harry said.

Michael pulled a paperback out of his robe pocket and promptly began ignoring both Harry and Terry in favour of reading it.

"Don't mind him," Terry said with an eye-roll, "It's the latest one in that new series by Nia Fawcett and it's no use trying to talk to him until he's through with it. You're muggleborn aren't you?"

"More or less," Harry said glancing out the window.

In the time it had taken for them to get settled they'd passed out of London and the suburbs and into the surrounding farmland.

"Thought as much, you know that gadget will be useless as soon as you get inside the grounds right? Magic makes muggle technology go all wonky for some reason."

Harry's face darkened though his expression didn't change.

"All the more reason to leave as soon as possible."

"Leave?" said Terry looking taken aback, "But why? Aren't you excited to learn magic?"

"Not particularly," said Harry with a laconic shrug.

"So then…not to seem rude but why are you even here?"

Something like a fleeting grimace passed over Harry's features.

"My parents are convinced boarding school will cure my anti-social tendencies, it was this or military school," he answered.

"Harsh," said Terry with a sympathetic wince, "Well all my family has been magic for ages back, so I've been waiting to come to Hogwarts for what seems like forever, Michael too. You should have seen him when his sister went off last year."

"Terry," said Michael warningly from where he was still absorbed in his book.

"I didn't say anything," Terry said defensively.

"See that you don't."

Terry stuck his tongue out at his friend and Michael, even without looking up from his book replied with a rude hand gesture.

Harry arched a brow at the wide grin that split Terry's face.

"We've lived next door to each other forever, and his Mum and my Mum are good friends so we've been friends since we were in nappies," the curly-haired boy explained.

"Felicitations," said Harry.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and a rather round-faced boy with brown hair cut in an unflattering style dressed in Hogwarts robes came in. He looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Neville," greeted Terry with a grin and a nod.

"Hey Terry, Michael,"

"Longbottom," Michael greeted, not looking up from his book.

"Sorry to bother you guys," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him for sure this time! He just keeps on getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Terry encouragingly.

"Yeah, I guess," said the boy miserably, "Well, if you see him..." he trailed off and left the compartment dejectedly.

"I don't know why he's so bothered," said Michael unconcernedly flipping a page in his book, "Toads went out of fashion half a century ago and if I'd brought one I'd have lost it as soon as possible."

"Yes, but then again you're heartless," said Terry, "Have some sympathy for poor Neville. He raised that toad from spawn you know."

"I have plenty of sympathy for him," Michael retorted, "He has to live with his dragon of a grandmother."

"Dowager Longbottom isn't that bad," said Terry unconvincingly.

Michael shot him an incredulous glance over the top of his book.

"I think I'm going to go help him look for it, maybe we can find a prefect who can do a locator spell or something."

Just as Terry moved to rise the compartment door slid open again with a sharp clack. Neville Longbottom was back looking a tad overwhelmed and a tad apologetic and he had with him a short girl with a halo of bushy brown hair and overlarge front teeth who surveyed the compartment with a businesslike expression.

"Has anyone here seen a toad, this boy, Neville, seems to have lost one," she said briskly.

At this Michael finally snapped his book shut and looked up, glaring at the little witch.

"As we just told Longbottom himself, no we haven't seen the bloody toad!"

"But if we do see one you'll be the first to know," added Harry without inflection, despite the fact that he was just as annoyed as Michael at all the interruption.

The bushy-haired girl didn't seem too bothered by Michael's rudeness when she caught sight of the book he was reading.

"Are you reading Nia Fawcett? I picked up her entire series in Flourish and Blotts, for a bit of light reading of course I wanted to compare her work with that of muggle fiction. I find the differences ever so fascinating. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

Harry looked across the seat and took note of both Terry and Michael's dazed expressions.

"I'm Harry," he said, "This is Michael Corner and Terry Boot."

"A pleasure I'm sure," she said.

Terry was the first to recover his characteristic grin making itself known.

"Good to meet you Granger. Are you hoping for Ravenclaw then?" he asked.

"Well, I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best. I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad."

"Here I'll come with you and help look, I was just thinking that we might try asking one of the prefects to do a locator spell."

"What a marvellous idea I can't believe I didn't think of that sooner!" Hermione exclaimed as Terry led her and Neville out of the compartment, "You had better change into your uniform Harry, I expect we'll be there soon," she tossed over her shoulder.

The compartment door shut with another sharp clack and for a blessed moment there was silence in their compartment.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Michael turning back to his book.

Harry hummed his agreement before sticking his earphones back in. The two boys sat together in the quiet of their train compartment for what seemed like just moments, but was probably over an hour at least, when Terry and Hermione Granger returned.

Terry had a split lip and Hermione was scolding him roundly.

"—honestly, fighting on the train! You'll be in trouble before we even reach Hogwarts!"

"Hey you make it sound like I was the one who started the fight!" Terry protested.

"Well you certainly finished it didn't you," huffed Hermione.

"What in the name of Merlin happened to you?" Michael demanded.

"Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle got into it with the Weasleys and I had to go in and break things up," Terry explained.

"Tch. Serves you right, those two families have been feuding forever it seems, getting between them is just asking for it really."

"Did you find the toad at least?" asked Harry, mildly curious.

"Yeah, one of the prefects summoned him and we got him and Neville tucked back into their compartment safe and sound," Terry answered flopping back into his seat with a sigh.

"Harry," said Hermione in a scolding voice, rounding on the dark-haired boy, "You really need to get your robes on. I've just been up to speak to the conductor and we're nearly there."

"Good," said Harry, glancing out the window, but making no move to change into his robes.

It was getting dark and he could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train also did seem to be slowing down.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

"There now, you see? I'm right."

"I have no doubt about that. However, I'm not going to Hogwarts and so I see no need to change," said Harry reasonably.

"Not going to…then why are you on this train?" Hermione demanded, hands on her hips.

"My mother was holding my iPod hostage," Harry answered.

"You can't mean that you don't want to go to Hogwarts," she said incredulously.

"Of course I can," Harry said, "And in fact I do."

"But…but, don't you want to learn magic?" sputtered Hermione wide-eyed.

"Not particularly," shrugged Harry.

The train shuddered to a stop and there was a sudden increase in the noise level just outside the door.

"You all should get going," he added putting his earphones back in.

"But—"

"Just leave him," said Michael tucking his book into his robe pocket and standing to stretch a bit, "The prefects will sort him out."

With a last sceptical glance over their shoulder Terry and Hermione followed Michael out of the compartment and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

As Michael predicted no sooner had the noise in corridor dissipated then a pair of older students in red and blue accented robes respectively came into his compartment looking surprised to see him there.

"Now what's this then?" said the girl in the blue robes, "You're not even dressed yet."

"Don't mind me," Harry said waving them off, "I'm just waiting for the train to take me back to civilization."

The boy in the red robes blinked before pushing his horn-rimmed glasses further up his nose and puffing out his chest in a way that displayed the silver badge pinned to his robes to its best advantage.

"Now see here, young man, no more of this nonsense, you have to get off this train and join your classmates! Hurry up now, hop to!"

"I don't hop," said Harry calmly.

The older boy didn't seem to know what to say to that. The prefect in the blue accented robes however had no such confusion. With a few sharp flicks of her wand the girl had a set of Harry's brand new Hogwarts robes slithering onto him over his jeans and sweater. Harry shot her a glare.

"There now, that's better. Perce take him down to Hagrid, would you? I'll just finish up here," she said sweeping briskly out of the compartment.

"Right come on you, let's get going."

Silently Harry allowed the boy to lead him off the train and into the cool night air of the tiny platform. The sign above the platform read Hogsmeade Station and it was nearly empty of students as they all flocked in one direction.

There was a small knot of students gathered around an impossibly large shadowy figure with a lantern.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years. Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

"Hold up a moment Hagrid!" called the boy.

"Ah, tha' you Percy? Got n'other one for me?"

"Yes, and you'd best keep a sharp eye on him," said Percy before rounding on Harry, "Now you stick with Hagrid, you hear? And don't make trouble."

Harry nodded and moved over to where Michael, Terry, Neville and Hermione were gathered, watching the proceedings with interest.

"Told you so," said Michael.

"You did," Harry agreed tucking his iPod into his robes pocket.

If Terry was to be believed it was about to become useless anyway.

"All righ' now, this way!"

The forty or so students still gathered on the platform followed Hagrid and his lantern down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there but he couldn't see well enough to be sure. Nobody spoke much, though Neville it seemed had taken it upon himself to stumble over every divot it the path and nearly went sprawling a number of times.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "Jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!" from the group of first years. The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. Even Harry had to admit that the sight was impressive.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore.

"These boats don't look particularly sturdy, I'd better wait on the shore," said Harry.

"Come on you," said Michael annoyed, catching hold of his wrist and dragging him into the nearest boat.

Terry and Neville climbed into the boat with them while Hermione joined a pair of girls in the next boat over.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then – FORWARD!" And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff.

They all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Let me guess," said Terry when Harry didn't immediately get out of the little boat, "You're not coming."

"Correct," Harry agreed lounging as best as he could in his seat.

"You're gonna get caught, why do you even bother?"

"Those who do not try can never hope to succeed," Harry answered.

"Whatever, see you in a second."

"Oy, you there! Time ter get out now, we're here, hop to!" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"I don't hop," Harry informed the giant of a man.

Foiled again Harry slipped out of the boat and once again joined the group. This time Harry could tell that Hagrid actually was keeping a sharp eye on him.

Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here?" his beetle black eyes searched Harry out of the crowd, "Alrigh' then."

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

* * *

**AN:** And there you have it folks! Please feel free to review and let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**I Want to Go Home**

**Chapter Two: Sorted**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Gordon Korman's "I Want to Go Home". Anything you recognize is not mine.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who took the time to review, alert and favourite. Hope you guys enjoy the next installment!

* * *

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross unless it became absolutely necessary.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

The double doors swung wide and the students followed the soft click-click of Professor McGonagall's heels deeper into the castle, more than a few of the gawping at the surroundings with awed expressions on their face. The entrance hall was just as impressive as the outside of the castle, and so big you could have fit a football field inside, bleachers and all. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches that flickered in the breeze as the doors swung shut seemingly of their own accord behind them. The ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent staircase of white marble facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right –the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall, her voice was quiet but she had no need to shout to command their attention, "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on a very tall, freckly, orange-haired boy to their left who had smudged dirt on his nose.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall, "Please wait quietly." She left the chamber.

"How exactly do they sort us into our houses Terry, I've looked through every book I could find of course but there's nothing. Hogwarts: A History doesn't even mention it except to say that the Founders wanted to teach different types of students and that it was Godric Gryffindor who came up with the way to continue to segregate the students they would have favored into their houses but really how can they expect us to prepare—"

"Breathe Granger," said Michael, cutting off Hermione's increasingly hysterical tirade.

"There's a sort of unwritten rule that you keep the sorting more or less a secret," said Terry, "I don't know the particulars but I know you won't need to do any actual magic, so don't be too worried."

"Right," nodded Hermione, and then she began listing all the reasons she really needed to relax very fast under her breath.

"Yes, because that is the very definition of relaxation," sighed Michael.

Terry was helping Neville get his cloak on straight when behind them several people screamed. Everyone started reflexively and Michael's hand went to his wand.

"Those are ghosts," said Harry quietly, his eyes as wide as they'd ever been.

And it was true about twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Michael bit off an annoyed breath and Neville and Terry slumped against each other in relief.

"Yeah, those are the Hogwarts ghosts," said Terry.

Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing.

What looked to be the ghost of a fat little monk was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves. He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?" asked a ghost wearing a ruff and tights who, it seemed, had finally noticed the first years.

Nobody answered. Not even Harry could summon up a smart-mouthed comment.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose."

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar, "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice, "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned and was shooing the ghosts along with nothing more than a stern look. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Hermione rushed forward eager to be first into the Great Hall and ended up next to a girl with candy-apple red hair. Terry and Neville fell into step behind a sandy-haired boy and an incredibly tall black boy and Harry and Michael followed them.

McGonagall lead the first years out of the chamber back across the entrance hall and through a set of double doors that swung open as she approached revealing the truly cavernous room beyond. The Great Hall was at least a full order of magnitude more magnificent than the entrance hall.

There were four long tables with benches that sat the whole of the student body and another table on a raised dais that sat the professors all lit by an indecent number of floating candles.

"The fire-department would have a conniption if they saw this place, and I'm sure that ceiling is not to code," Harry said flatly, surprising a soft snort of laughter from the boy behind him.

Everyone else was oohing and awing over the beauty that was the night sky and a perfectly clear representation of the stars outside, it was almost as if the Great Hall had no ceiling at all.

"It was bewitched to look like exactly the sky by Helga Hufflepuff herself, I read all about it in Hogwarts: A History," gushed Hermione in a rather loud whisper to the red-headed girl next to her.

Professor McGonagall lead them all up to the front of the hall so that they had their backs to the teachers and were facing the rest of the student body, the ghosts glittering mistily here and there stark against the sea of black and glinting gold.

There was a soft clack that echoed loudly in the silence of the hall and Harry turned his attention back to McGonagall who set a small three legged stool down in front of the line of first years and then set a pointy wizard's hat on top of it.

The hat was as patched, frayed, dirty and generally old as it was possible to be, with a great ragged tear near the brim and Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted to put it on his head, vague warnings from his elementary school teachers about not sharing hats and lice flitting through his brain. Then the tear opened wide and the hat began to sing.

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see, _

_I'll eat myself if you can find _

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you _

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor, _

_Where dwell the brave at heart, _

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry _

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff, _

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuff's are true _

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning, _

_Will always find their kind; _

_Or perhaps in Slytherin _

_You'll make your real friends, _

_Those cunning folk use any means _

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on!_

_Don't be afraid! _

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none) _

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!" _

The entirety of the Great Hall burst into applause at the mediocre display of music. Harry was already lamenting the loss of his iPod. The hat, for its part, looked as pleased with itself as a hat could look and bowed to all the four house tables before becoming quite still again.

"We have to try on a hat," said Michael looking singularly unimpressed.

"That does seem to be the case," agreed Harry quietly.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long roll of parchment in hand and behind her the hall went quiet again.

"When I call your name, step forward and take a seat on the stool. I will place the Sorting Hat on your head and you will be sorted into your houses," she instructed.

She paused for a moment to make sure there were not questions and then turned to her roll of parchment.

"Abbott, Hannah," she called.

A lanky girl with coltish legs and blonde pigtails stumbled out of line and, trembling, seated herself on the stool. McGonagall then lowered the hat onto her head and it slipped right past her eyes to rest on the bridge of her nose.

After a short moment the tear in the brim of the Sorting Hat opened wide once more and the hat shouted loud enough for the whole hall to hear:

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

There was a rousing cheer from the table with the yellow accented robes and ties and as Hannah Abbott loped over to join her new house her own, robes, and tie changed to match before Harry's eyes. At least he wouldn't have to worry about buying yet more new robes, Harry reflected, watching the Fat Friar wave the girl into an empty seat.

"Bones, Susan."

The girl with the candy-apple red hair next to Hermione slipped out of line and tentatively sat herself on the very edge of the stool as though she were afraid of breaking it.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat cried again, and as soon as the hat cleared the top of her head she was off towards the cheering Hufflepuff table like a shot, dropping into the seat next to Hannah Abbott with a blinding smile.

"Boot, Terry."

Terry didn't look nervous at all and Harry took a brief moment to wonder if that genial, easy-going smile he was sporting ever came off. The hat dropped over his eyes and then seemed to take a very long time deciding, much longer than it had with either of the girls. Finally after several minutes the tear at the brim opened and the hat declared:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Terry looked faintly surprised as the hat came off but grinned widely at the cheering table. The Gryffindors were cheering even more loudly than the Hufflepuffs, applause mixed with whistles and hooting.

"Damn," cursed Michael quietly.

"What?"

"There's no way I make Gryffindor, not in a million years. We're going to be separated."

Harry really didn't know what to say to that, though he did try to think of something as Bronson, Brown and Bulstrode went into Slytherin, Gryffindor and Slytherin. The problem was Harry didn't have any real friends and he'd never known another person since the cradle. He didn't know what it felt like to be separated from a friend like that so what comfort could he possibly give?

"Brocklehurst, Amanda."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Corner, Michael," called McGonagall.

"Good luck," Harry offered.

"Yeah, thanks."

Michael took a fortifying breath and stepped out of the line, his resigned expression disappearing quickly beneath the brim of the hat.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted almost immediately.

The Ravenclaw table burst into sudden applause, more subdued than either the Gryffindors or the Hufflepuffs but more enthusiastic than the Slytherins, and Harry noted that at the Gryffindor table Terry was cheering his friend on as he walked toward the rest of the students with their robes done up in blue.

Cornfoot, Stephan joined him there not a moment later.

The Sorting seemed to stretch on and on, as one by one his fellow first years were divvied up by personality. It was interesting to watch to be sure, especially since the hat sometimes seemed to just know immediately where a student belonged and at other times it took a very long time for it to make up its mind. However, Harry was hungry, starving really. He hadn't eaten anything on the train and by the time the hat had finally declared Finnegan, Seamus a Gryffindor he was all for numbering the rest of the students off and sending them to sit down like they did in gym class.

When her name was called Hermione was up on that stool in a flash practically vibrating, whether in excitement or nervousness Harry couldn't really tell but when the hat shouted Gryffindor she was all excitement and Harry spared a quick thank you to all the deities he knew of that it was Terry she was plopping down next to.

Neville Longbottom, white-faced and terrified, was so relieved when he too was declared a Gryffindor that he ran off with the hat still on his head and flushing scarlet had to run back and hand it to a disapproving looking McGonagall so that Morag and Isobel MacDougal could be sorted back to back into Ravenclaw.

"Nott, Theodore."

"SLYTHERIN!"

After Nott a girl named Parkinson with an unfortunate nose also made Slytherin and twin Patils were separated for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw respectively. Perks, Sally-Ann was declared a Hufflepuff, and really where else could she go with a name like that? Then finally McGonagall called his name.

"Potter, Harry."

There was a sudden all-encompassing silence in the Great Hall but that only lasted a half-second at most before the whole school began to whisper to their neighbors and crane their necks for a good look at him.

Harry sighed. He'd almost managed to forget about this, the single most annoying aspect of the Wizarding World. His sudden fame.

"Potter?" hissed the crowd.

"The Harry Potter?"

"Do you see him?"

"Is it really him?"

Harry was almost glad when he sat himself carefully on the rickety three-legged stool and allowed Professor McGonagall to drop the must old hat over his eyes and ears blocking out the rest of the world entirely. It was almost as good as his earphones, not that he wished the hat would sing again. Once had been plenty.

"And just what is wrong with my singing young Potter?" demanded a voice.

It sounded like the hat. He hadn't heard the hat speaking to anyone else though, so the voice must be inside his mind.

"Very astute young Potter, yes, I can read your mind."

Harry didn't like the idea of that at all, first boarding school now he didn't even have privacy in his own head.

"Oh, stop your carping, it's not that bad. Now let us see here. Ooh difficult, very difficult, plenty of courage I see, fairly loyal as well, but lazy yes…yes. A good mind, and talent, oh yes, now that is interesting…"

'Hey,' thought Harry rather suddenly, barely able to believe that the idea hadn't occurred to him while he was waiting in line with the other students, 'If you can't decide on a place to sort me you can always send me home, right? Just say that there's been some sort of mistake—'

"Oh no you don't Potter, you're staying right here whether you like it or not."

'And I don't like it,' Harry clarified, in case the hat wasn't clear on his stance on the matter.

"You don't have to like it. It's such a pity you have no great ambition," sighed the hat, "With cunning and talent like that you would have done marvelously in Slytherin, as it is though, better be RAVENCLAW!"

When McGonagall took the hat from his head she seemed to be a tad surprised. The Ravenclaw table broke into the loudest round of applause that Harry had heard from them yet and Harry scowled as he took a seat next to Michael who looked at him like he'd grown a third or fourth head.

"It's rude to stare," Harry pointed out.

"You're Harry Potter," said Michael incredulously.

"That does seem to be the case," Harry agreed easily.

"But that—you…" Michael trailed off sputtering and unable to complete a sentence.

"Think about what you want to say and in the meantime have a roll," suggested Harry shoving the warm lump of crusty bread into the other Ravenclaw's gawping mouth with more force than was absolutely necessary.

While Michael had been busy trying to get his words out the Sorting had been finished and Dumbledore had stood up to say a few decidedly random words, and now the tables were filled to bursting with large golden platters heaped high with delicious looking food.

"Did you have to do that?" Michael demanded snappishly, spitting the roll out onto his plate.

Harry considered the question with all due seriousness before nodding firmly.

"Yes," he said as he scooped a large dollop of fluffy mashed potatoes neatly onto one side of his plate, "I really did."

Michael scowled as he began to roughly deposit food onto his plate, clearly annoyed, but at least he wasn't acting like some sun-struck featherbrain anymore.

"You're the kid who made that crack about the fire-department, yeah?" said the blond boy sitting across from Harry, "You muggleborn too?"

"Halfblood but muggle-raised," Harry answered.

"Sweet, I was worried I'd be the only one, I'm Kevin Entwhistle by the way."

"Harry."

"Good to meetcha, these two blokes doing a goldfish impression at you are Stephan Cornfoot and Anthony Goldstein by the way," said Kevin gesturing to the blond on his left and the willowy brunet on his right.

When they still couldn't stop staring Kevin smacked them both upside the head.

"Oi, peabrains, all the dinner'll be gone if you don't stop ogling, yeah?"

The smack and genial scold seemed to jolt both the boys out of their trance and they flushed brightly, mumbling incoherent greetings before using dinner as an excuse not to meet Harry's cool gaze.

"Don't mind 'em, they're decent blokes, I spent the whole of the train ride with 'em," Kevin added.

Harry eyed the two boys dubiously but decided not to argue. It looked like he was going to have enough trouble with the females in his year, they had all gathered at the end of the table and were pointing whispering and giggling. All danger signs when it came to the fairer sex, especially the giggling.

Harry tuned them out with the ease of long practice and instead started eavesdropping shamelessly as Stephan Cornfoot pointed out all the different professors for Kevin in between delicate bites of meat pie.

"—is Hagrid of course, he's the groundskeeper, gamekeeper and keeper of the keys. Rumor has it he also does important errands for Dumbledore on the side. Thoroughly Dumbledore's man that one. He was given a job here after being expelled from Hogwarts as a student.

The empty seat on the far end is meant for Trelawney the divination Professor, she's a bit of a wing-nut or so I hear, and almost never comes down from her tower.

Next to him is Charity Burbage, you'll know her as well she's in charge of going around to all the muggleborns and getting them acclimatized. She teaches Muggle Studies, supposed to be a fair sort but not that interesting.

Next to her is Bathsheda Babbling, she teaches Ancient Runes and beside her is Professor Pomona Sprout who teaches Herbology and is Head of Hufflepuff house.

McGonagall you know, Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor, yadda yadda, and she's next to Dumbledore of course. Now there's an odd duck. He's brilliant, done things with a wand and cauldron other wizards can only dream of, a true prodigy. He defeated the Dark Lord Grindelwald in the forties. He worked with Nicholas Flamel on the twelve uses of dragon's blood back in the day but his real power lies in his ability to manipulate words and people. He's got his hands in every major and minor political going on in the country and most of them out of Britain for that matter. The only reason he's not Minister for Magic a hundred times over is because he keeps refusing the job.

On Dumbledore's other side is Filius Flitwick, he's Ravenclaw's Head of House and he teaches charms. Don't let his size fool you though; he was a dueling champion when he was younger. Next to him is Severus Snape, he's Head of Slytherin and teaches potions. He's the youngest person to attain a potion's mastery in the past century but he's a crap teacher. He blatantly favors his house and takes points left right and centre from all the other houses. Everyone knows that he'd rather be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts but that's Quirrell's job this year. Quirinus Quirrell is the young one in the ridiculous purple turban next to Snape."

Just then Snape glanced over the top of Quirrell's head and his gaze met Harry's head on and something very strange happened. The lightning bolt scar on his forehead, the one that Harry had never paid much mind to until he'd found out it was the reason he was so damn famous, flared with a sudden burning pain. Before he could school his expression, Harry outright flinched at the pain and dropped his eyes back to his plate.

"You alright Harry?" asked Kevin concerned.

He was fine. A tad shaken but the pain had gone as quickly as it had come and he had no interest in drawing attention to his famous scar.

"Bit my tongue," Harry said softly flicking his gaze tentatively back up to the head table.

Snape was no longer paying the students any mind, though, having engaged Quirrell in conversation. Harry relaxed minutely into his seat.

"Anyway, Stephan you were telling us about Quirrell, do you know where he got that stupid thing on his head?" put in Anthony Goldstein.

"Not a clue," shrugged the willowy brunet boy, taking a sip of the pumpkin juice Harry was making a point to avoid.

"Do you know why he looks so nervous?" asked Michael, "Besides the fact that he's got Snape breathing down his neck of course."

"Well the story is he switched his mastery from muggle studies to Defense and he was fine while studying out of the books but when he went off to get some field experience in the Black Forest out in Albania something out there spooked him good. Now he's scared of everything, his subject, his students, his shadow. He won't last the year I'll bet."

"Nobody with half a brain is going to take that bet Cornfoot," sneered Michael, "Everyone knows about the curse."

"I don't, yeah," Kevin protested, "What curse? Who got cursed?"

"It's not a who as such," Michael explained, "It's the Defense position itself, each year teachers are driven off by one thing or another. A few of them have actually up and died. Hogwarts has had a different Defense teacher every year for going on 50 years."

"Dumbledore's been having real trouble hiring I hear," added Anthony shaking his head, "Nobody wants the job anymore, it doesn't matter what the pay is or what the benefits are. People are scared."

"Or just sensible," said Harry, "I wouldn't take a job I knew was cursed."

"True," agreed Stephan, reaching for a platter of desert that had suddenly appeared, "But I'm getting off topic, next to Quirrell is Septima Vector, she's the Arithmacy professor. I hear she's tough but fair. Gives a mountain of homework though and her exams are always the hardest. Next to her is Rolanda Hooch she teaches flying and refs all the Quidditch matches."

"What's Quidditch?" interrupted Kevin only to be met with incredulous stares from the three boys with all wizarding background, "What's with the look? All muggle family here!"

"Quidditch is our sport, it's played in the air on brooms, like football only a hundred times cooler!" gushed Anthony.

Harry thought that Quidditch would probably be interesting to watch but vowed never to play it himself. The very thought of nothing but an enchanted twig between his legs keeping him from being street pizza enough to send a frisson of healthy fear racing down his spine.

After Quidditch had been mentioned though, Stephan was side-tracked from his descriptions and drawn into a debate about broom models and teams that was enough to make Harry's head spin with confusion. Still there were only three people left un-introduced at the head table, a harried looking man with a missing arm, a pretty middle-aged woman with stars on her robes and in her hair, and a kindly looking woman in a getup that immediately labeled her the school nurse.

Just as Harry was considering whether or not he would be able to fit a third helping of desert into his already bursting stomach and things between Michael and Stephan were getting heated about just which broom was the best for chasers, Dumbledore stood up and raised his hands. All at once the hall fell silent and the food disappeared from the platters.

"Ahern - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes flashed in the direction of the Gryffindor table, directly at a pair of red-headed highly freckled twins if their maniacal grins were anything to go by.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

A few people laughed hesitantly as though they thought this might be a joke but Dumbledore looked perfectly serious.

"He's not serious, is he Steph?" asked Kevin worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

"Don't call me that," snapped Stephan, before frowning at Dumbledore again, "He must be, though. He's not the sort to joke about that kind of thing."

"All the more reason to leave, before I get turned around in the halls and end up dead," Harry said matter-of-factly.

The girls, who had apparently been eavesdropping, began to titter nervously amongst themselves. The older Ravenclaw prefect from the train leaned around the boy sitting next to her to give Harry a stern glare.

"That's enough out of you Potter, pay attention!"

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore.

Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed and he could guess why having already been exposed once this night to the torture that was what wizards thought of as music.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please, _

_Whether we be old and bald Or young with scabby knees, _

_Our heads could do with filling _

_With some interesting stuff, _

_For now they're bare and full of air, _

_Dead flies and bits of fluff, _

_So teach us things worth knowing, _

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot._

Harry valiantly refrained from outright clapping his hands over his ears but couldn't hold in the wincing as the very concept of music was butchered all around him. Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the red-headed Gryffindor twins with the insane grins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march.

Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest. Harry didn't clap at all.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here!"

"I can see that," Harry agreed in an undertone.

"And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

"Oi, you were supposed to be singing!" Kevin said nudging Harry under the table with his foot.

"I don't sing," said Harry calmly.

"All the better for me I suppose," said Michael who looked like he too would have rather been plugging his ears for the whole ordeal.

"Alright First Years, come on, gather around here!" called the bossy Ravenclaw prefect.

The first years got up and gathered around her so reluctantly Harry followed. The prefect surveyed them taking a head count and then consulting a list before nodding to herself. With a swish of her wand the list vanished.

"Welcome First Years to Ravenclaw house, I am the fifth year prefect, Penelope Clearwater, and this is my counterpart Dave Hatton," she said waving to the tall grinning student behind her, "We are here to guide you until you find your feet here at Hogwarts and you can feel free to come to us with any questions."

She paused to make sure no one was dying to ask a question but after the ordeal of the train ride, Sorting Ceremony and feast, not even the bright Ravenclaws could muster up a question or two from beneath the fog of fatigue.

"Alright then, follow me."

Penelope led them out of the Great Hall and back into the entrance hall, up that grand marble staircase and then across what felt like the entire castle and then up again. It seemed a little like a fairy tale, and in Harry's brain an annoying Disney narrator was chanting 'In the highest room of the tallest tower…' over and over while his legs carried him forward on autopilot.

When they finally reached the top of a spiral staircase they all packed tight on a landing in front of a door with no knob or key hole but only a bronze doorknocker in the shape of an eagle.

"This is the entrance to the Ravenclaw Tower. Unlike the other Houses our Tower has no password. Ask to enter and the guardian will give you a riddle. If you give an acceptable answer you will be admitted. If you cannot give a correct answer then you will have to wait for someone who can answer the riddle."

Harry thought this was perhaps one of the most ridiculous things he had ever heard, but out of politeness refrained from saying so aloud.

"Allow me to demonstrate."

"May I enter?" Penelope asked the bronze eagle.

The eagle roused itself and blinked at her.

"What gets wetter and wetter the more it dries?" asked the doorknocker.

"Towel," answered Dave Hatton, still grinning as if this were the most fun he'd ever had.

"You may enter."

The doorknocker stilled and the door swung inward to reveal a short passagway leading into a room well lit by lamps and fireplaces.

"Welcome to the Ravenclaw common room."

The room was wide and circular and the very definition of airy. Where the stone walls were not set with high arched windows draped in blue and bronze silk they were obscured by white wood bookshelves filled with volume upon volume of magical text. The floor around the outside of the room was made of white marble but two steps down the main body of the room was lined with plush midnight blue carpet and there were brown leather couches, chaise lounges and rounded armchairs upholstered in blue crushed velvet and there were a couple of upper year students lounging about in groups, chatting quietly and getting caught up with friends they hadn't seen all summer. The second tier of the common room, accessible by another, thinner, spiral staircase was ringed with scrubbed white wood tables and old-style study cubicles. The domed ceiling was painted with stars and against the far wall there was a white marble statue of a noble lady with a book in one arm and an eagle alighting on the other, which was held up to provide a perch.

"Beyond the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw there are two doors, the boys' dormitory is through the door on the right-hand side, the girls' dorm is on the left. There will be a plaque above the door denoting the year to which the occupants beyond it belong and each year group has its own attached bathroom. Please take a copy of the first year timetable and a map before you head to bed. Tomorrow breakfast will be served in the Great Hall starting at six and will end at nine. Your fist class starts at eight and you will all want to give yourself plenty of time to get something to eat and find your classroom so I don't recommend having a lie in."

Penelope's eyes lingered on Harry as though she thought that he was the one most likely to pull that kind of stunt.

"Alright, that's everything for now. If any of you have questions Dave and I will be in the common room and available to answer them for the next twenty minutes."

The first years grabbed their map and timetable and trudged past the statue and through the doors leading into the dormitories. The boys found theirs at the top of the stairs and Kevin pushed the door open to reveal a semicircular room with five white wood four poster beds hung with blue velvet drapes and topped with sky blue silk eiderdown comforters. At the foot of each bed was a trunk and next to each bed was a small desk with a chair and a bookshelf that served double duty as a nightstand. There was one door leading off the main room and it opened into the promised bathroom which was stocked with toiletries for those who'd forgotten to pack their own.

"Well I'm all for turning in early, s'been a long day, yeah," Kevin said moving to his new bed and rummaging around in his trunk until he came up with a set of pajamas and a toothbrush and then disappearing into the bathroom.

Too tired to talk much the other boys followed his lead. Stripping out of their uniforms and brushing their teeth and washing their faces mechanically, mumbling half-hearted 'g'nights' to each other before collapsing onto their four posters and curling up in their comforters.

Harry blessed whoever had the foresight to add hangings to the beds because drawing them shut around his bed he had enough privacy that he could drift off relatively easily, wishing in vain that his iPod worked in this bloody castle.

That night he dreamed strange dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

**I Want to Go Home**

**Chapter Three: Robes, Maps, Classes and Malfoy**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Gordon Korman's "I Want to Go Home". Anything you recognize does not belong to me.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who took the time to review, alert and fave! You guys are super awesome! As a reward feel free to read on!

* * *

Harry woke several times throughout the night with bad dreams and so when he shot up in bed for the third time in as many hours, drenched in cold sweat and with the echo of cruel laughter ringing in his ears, and noticed that the sky had turned from navy blue to a washed out grey that signaled the dawn he decided he might as well get up.

Fuming and scowling at the hour he fished around in his trunk for a pair of uniform pants, shirt and tie, deciding to forgo both the nerdy sweater vest and the robes that made him look like a girl, and laid them out on the bed.

A long hot shower went a long way to improving his mood and Harry was able to calmly gather his books for the day's classes without any of the banging, cussing and snarling that had accompanied his time in the bathroom. First up was Herbology with the Slytherins, then History of Magic with the Gryffindors, Transfiguration also with the Slytherins, then there was a two hour break for lunch and Double Charms in the afternoon with the Gryffindors.

There were also fifteen minute breaks between classes to give students time to get to their next class should it happen to be on the other side of the school. Harry mused that he might have to take to jogging in the morning to keep in shape for the many cross-campus dashes that were sure to ensue trying to make it from the greenhouses to the classrooms on the upper floors or in the dungeons. Dinner was served from six to eight and then curfew was for ten unless there was an Astronomy class going.

Harry brought out his new book bag from his trunk and loaded it up with the supplies he'd need for the day. He glanced at his watch as he strapped to his wrist. It was quarter after six and his stomach was complaining that if he was going to be up this early he might as well feed it. He glanced at his dorm mates debating whether or not to wake them, before deciding to be nice and exiting the common room alone. Just because he couldn't sleep didn't mean that everyone else should have to suffer, he thought rather magnanimously.

There were upper year students already awake, and some that had never gone to bed if the bruises under their eyes and the ragged state of their hair were any indication, working on unfinished summer homework or doing their readings before class. One of those people, unfortunately, was fifth year prefect Penelope Clearwater.

She glanced up from her place curled up in one of the armchairs took one look at him and immediately closed her large potions tome with a sharp snap, setting it down on the chair and rushing over to him.

"Just where do you think you're going dressed like that?" she demanded hands on her hips.

"To the Great Hall, for breakfast," Harry answered calmly.

He had a pretty good idea of what was making her so upset. Though he was in fact dressed in his uniform, his tie was loose, his shirt was un-tucked and he'd substituted his robes for a bulky button down sweater his grandmother had knitted for him two Christmases previous. That was to say nothing of his hair which was over-long and in its usual state of disarray.

"Where are your robes?" she demanded in a low would-be calm sort of voice, confirming his theory.

"In my dormitory."

"Well you march right back there and put them on!" she ordered making shooing motions with her hands, "I'm not going to have one of my first years losing points for Ravenclaw on the first day with something as silly as not following the dress code!"

"This is a violation of my right to freedom of expression, and stifles my creative spirit," Harry warned her.

"Robes!" she ordered through gritted teeth, "Now!"

With a long-suffering sigh Harry turned on his heel marched back to his dorm and slid into his robes. One glance in the mirror confirmed it. He still looked like a girl in the damned things. His mutinous demi-expression upon his return to the common room earned him a personal escort to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Harry had just sat down and was picking at a few slices of whole wheat toast and a bowl of fruit salad while Penelope sat down across from him with her potions tome, occasionally pausing to throw him a suspicious look over the top of the dust cover, when Hermione came bouncing up to him a cheery Terry and more asleep than awake Neville Longbottom trailing in her wake.

"Good morning Harry!" she chirped.

"Oh joy, a morning person," said Harry flatly.

"Hey Harry, what's for breakfast? I'm starving," greeted Terry dropping into the seat next to Harry without a second thought and reaching for a slice of toast.

"Oh joy, two morning people."

"Well, look on the bright side, it'll never be three, practically had to give up an arm and a leg to get Nev out of bed this morning. Let me guess, Mikk's still sleeping."

"I refuse and yes, he is. I envy him greatly," said Harry taking a sip of water from his goblet.

There was no way he was ever drinking pumpkin juice without the threat of bodily harm being applied.

Penelope gaped, her mouth opening and closing as though she had no idea what to say or she was trying to imitate a goldfish, as Neville too sat down at the Ravenclaw table despite the fact that he was clearly dressed in the red and gold of Gryffindor house.

"We've been up and about since five thirty. I don't know how anyone could sleep with so many new and exciting classes to look forward to! I was re-reading my copy of Hogwarts: A History this morning while I waited for Terry and Neville and did you know that there are one hundred and forty two staircases at Hogwarts? The three of us got ever so lost this morning on the mains ones because they move every so often and the route was different from the one I memorized last night," squealed Hermione bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet seemingly too excited to sit.

"Had to fish Neville out of a trick stair at one point," Terry added taking a bite of an impossibly red apple.

"M'not asleep," muttered Neville in response to his name, even though he was leaning rather heavily on Terry's shoulder and his eyes were firmly shut.

"I'm so glad that they give us a map to our classes, aren't you? I'd never be able to find my way otherwise with the portraits and armor always moving around, not to mention the false doors and trick staircases, you know, the ones that lead nowhere or you climb up them for four flights only to find yourself in the basement?" Hermione bowled past the question not giving him time to answer, "I'm ever so excited for our first Transfiguration class, where we'll learn how to turn something into something else, McGonagall looks to be a wonderful teacher!"

"What are you three doing?" demanded Penelope shrilly, finally able to find her voice it seemed.

The three Gryffindors blinked only just seeming to notice Penelope's presence.

"Got yourself under guard already, eh Harry?" chuckled Terry.

"Maximum Security," explained Harry solemnly.

The fifth year prefect flushed darkly.

"Boot!" Penelope barked rounding on Terry, clearly feeling ill-equipped to deal with Harry at the moment, "You really ought to know better! Now the three of you, back to your table. Really, what is with the first years this year? And where the devil is Percy? Oughtn't he be keeping you in line?"

"Don't be mad Clearwater," said Terry with a charming grin that Harry thought was way over the top but that had Penelope Clearwater blushing slightly, "It's not like anyone else is up and about yet anyway, and besides there's nothing in the school rules that says we can't sit at other house tables. It's not like we're making trouble, right? So it's fine, right?"

Penelope bit her lip fiddling with the corner of her book.

"Well…I suppose it would be fine," she said slowly, "But only until the teachers come down for breakfast and only if the three of you sit quietly and don't make trouble. One toe out of line and it's back to your own table, you hear me Boot?"

"Yes ma'am," agreed Terry with a blinding grin.

"Oh, are you reading Advanced Potions I?" asked Hermione, not giving Penelope time to answer, "I picked up all six volumes over the summer but I've only managed to read the first two so far. Potions is ever such a fascinating subject, isn't it? I'm thinking of setting up a lab in my parents basement so that I can practice brewing over the summer seeing as how Potions is the only subject not subject to the regulations set down by the Reasonable Restriction for Underage Sorcery. But a standard ward stone for a potions lab is terribly expensive so I suspect it will take a bit of convincing. Have you gotten to the chapter on healing potions yet? I found the author's elucidations on the effects of potions on the resting chemistry of the human body positively inspired!"

Penelope didn't seem to know what to make of Hermione as she rambled on at high speed, but while the bushy-haired first year was paused preparing a bowl of porridge that was more brown sugar than anything, she took the opportunity to answer.

"Professor Snape always sets the fifth years an essay on the Draught of the Living Death as an introduction to the unit on sleeping solutions so I was getting a head start on the research," she said faintly.

"Ooh, that is a tricky one, I wouldn't want to attempt it just yet, it seems to be far beyond my ability. I mean the last step is simple, adding the asphodel, but creating the wormwood infusion…"

"Yes, it's easy to prepare asphodel with the proper equipment but I would absolutely dread stewing the wormwood, even a minute off in the timing and it's completely ruined!"

Penelope Clearwater warmed up to Hermione after that and the two of them kept up a back and forth dialogue about technical elements of magic far above the boys' heads while the three of them tucked into their breakfast, Terry occasionally nudging Neville awake and shoving bits of food into his mouth.

By time McGonagall had arrived at the Head Table and was eying the mix of robe colors suspiciously Hermione was extracting promises from Penelope to meet for breakfast every Monday even as Terry herded her and a slightly more awake Neville over to the Gryffindor table.

"I'll say this for you Potter," said Penelope turning back to her book looking happier than Harry had ever seen her, "You certainly chose your friends well. What a lovely bunch."

Harry chose to have another piece of toast so he wouldn't feel obligated to explain that he hadn't decided to be friends with anybody and that these people had just appeared and he hadn't yet found a reason to get rid of them.

An hour later at around half past seven, Dave Hatton appeared with two of his own friends and the rest of the first years in tow. Harry had bowed to the inevitable boredom and was reading through the first chapter in his Herbology text when Michael dropped into the seat formerly occupied by Terry.

"You're down for breakfast early Penny," Dave said genially in lieu of a more traditional greeting.

"Blame Potter," Penelope said serenely taking a sip of her tea and flicking to the next page in her book.

"What did you do?" demanded Michael grumpily heaping his plate high with eggs and bacon and proceeding to wolf them down as if he thought he'd never see food again.

"I merely exercised my own good judgment about whether or not I should wear my robes. Penelope just doesn't approve of creativity," said Harry shaking his head sadly.

Penelope scowled at Harry but didn't bother to comment.

The first year Ravenclaws managed to bolt down enough breakfast to tide them over until lunch within fifteen minutes and then trudged out into the overcast morning to work in the greenhouses. The majority of the Slytherin students, easily identified by their green and silver accented uniforms and bored expressions, were all already gathered in groups of two and three outside greenhouse number one and seemed to be waiting for Professor Sprout to put in her appearance.

Almost immediately upon arrival Harry caught the attention of one of the Slytherin students. A pale boy with silver-blond hair that was slicked back from his face with what looked to be some kind of gel, emphasizing his pointed features and a pair of eyes such a light shade of grey that they were nearly silver. His uniform was impeccably neat and he was flanked by two hulking figures about four times his size sporting buzz cuts. These two put Harry rather strongly in the mind of hired thugs.

"Heads up Harry," Stephan warned.

"Looks like Malfoy's ready for a confrontation," agreed Michael with a sneer.

Harry assumed that Malfoy was the blond boy because he was striding towards him purposefully, his thugs trailing slightly behind him.

"Corner, Cornfoot," greeted the blond sparing a short nod for Stephan and Michael his eyes passing over Kevin and Anthony as if they didn't exist.

"Malfoy," chorused the two dark-haired boys, returning the nod with a shallow pair of their own, for politeness' sake only if their expressions were anything to go by.

"So," drawled Malfoy, giving Harry a slow, thorough once over with his unusual eyes, "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

"So he has," agreed Harry.

"This is Crabbe and Goyle," said Malfoy gesturing to his human bookends carelessly, "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"You already know Stephan and Michael it seems, that's Anthony Goldstein over there and the perpetually cheerful one is Kevin Entwhistle."

Anthony gave Malfoy a cool nod of his own and Kevin spared a hesitant smile and a wave not sure where all the hostility was coming from. Truth be told, Harry wasn't entirely sure where it was coming from either but he'd dealt with plenty of hostility from his peers in school over the years and at least had a fair idea about how to deal with it.

"You've got yourself quite the little following, Potter."

"Thank you," said Harry solemnly, "I quite like your Neanderthals, did you grow them yourself or were they special order?"

Michael and Stephan joined Malfoy in being obviously confused, but Kevin and Anthony both burst out laughing.

Malfoy sneered.

"You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort, I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's.

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," said Harry coolly, making no move to reach for the offered appendage.

Malfoy didn't exactly go red as his hand fell back to his side but a faint pink tinge appeared on his cheeks.

"Careful Potter," he hissed, obviously furious but containing himself admirably, "Unless you're a bit politer—"

"Politer?" interrupted Harry, getting his back up, "That is rich coming from the one who just finished implying I was incapable of deciding with whom I wish to associate."

Malfoy's silver eyes flashed with surprise, and then showed a fleeting grimace as he realized his error, but the arrival of Professor Sprout saved him from having to respond.

"Well played, Harry," said Stephan under his breath as they sat to take a few notes on safety procedures in the greenhouses and on the Laughing Lilies they would be studying for the next few classes.

"What a twat," complained Kevin, "You saw the way he looked at us, yeah? Like we were dirt."

"That's the Malfoys for you," said Anthony, "Their part of the set that believes that those with muggle ancestry are second class. A very traditional, hide-bound lot."

"Lucius Malfoy has the Ministry in his pocket though," said Michael under his breath, shrugging as he pulled a quill, ink and a bit of parchment from his book bag, "He's rich as Croesus, probably richer actually, and Fudge, the Minister for Magic, is a bumbling idiot who can't see when he's being manipulated."

"Worse than that of course is that they've been neck deep in the dark arts for generations. Rumor had it that Lucius Malfoy was one of You-Know-Who's most loyal followers, but after he—er…"

"Made an unfortunate error in judgment," said Harry calmly pulling a green spiral bound notebook and a pencil from his book bag.

"Alright, we'll go with that," agreed Stephan, "Anyway in the aftermath he avoided time in Azkaban by claiming that You-Know-Who was controlling him and having the money to prove it."

"What are you writing with?" demanded Michael, frowning at Harry's note-taking setup.

"A pencil."

"I thought we were supposed to use quills and ink, drat, if I'd've known I would've brought my own pencils and notebooks. I'm absolute rubbish with this medieval nonsense," Kevin said gesturing at his quill with a look of deep disgust, "I even splurged for the self-inking kind and it didn't help a bit."

Wordlessly Harry pulled an extra pencil out of his bag and handed it to Kevin.

"Sweet! You are officially my new favorite person!"

"But we're supposed to use quill and ink," Anthony protested.

"Do what you want. I'm here under duress and see no reason to torture myself further."

The Ravenclaw boys shared a look but bent their heads to their notes without another word. After a half hour of lecturing Professor Sprout had them break off into small groups and count the buds on the Lilies and then measure them and carefully record the values in the tracking chart. They also ended up trying to police some of the inter-Lily bullying going on as the larger Lilies laughed mockingly at their smaller or slower developing counterparts.

It was without a doubt the strangest kind of class Harry had ever attended.

After Herbology, the Ravenclaw boys met Hermione, Neville and Terry in History of Magic where Hermione told them all very proudly about how she'd managed to partly transfigure her matchstick into a needle and had earned five points for Gryffindor from McGonagall and Neville moaned about the homework McGonagall had assigned them even though it was only the first day.

Stephan and Michael were giving Terry and Neville a mostly accurate accounting of how Harry had dealt with Malfoy that morning when Professor Binns floated in through the blackboard.

Professor Binns was the only teacher who was also a ghost. Apparently he was already very old when he took a nap in the staffroom one day and got up to teach that afternoon leaving his body behind. He barely seemed to realize that he was dead, immediately starting in on a droning lecture about the first Goblin War and the students were forced to try and desperately scribble down names and dates as they tried not to fall directly asleep.

Coming out of the classroom the first year students looked like they'd been run over by a truck and Harry was regretting both not jumping out of the Hogwarts Express yesterday when the idea had occurred to him, and promising his mother he would make an effort at school. It didn't help his overall sour mood to find that the people in the halls were pointing, staring and whispering to their neighbors about him again.

"Did you see him?"

"I think he looked this way!"

"In that knot of firsties there, the short one!"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

He even caught sight of a few students doubling back to get a second look at him. He more than halfway wished he knew a few decent hexes and jinxes.

"I'm never gonna pass that class," said Kevin fatalistically, interrupting Harry's internal grumblings.

Kevin had fallen asleep within the first fifteen minutes and drooled on what few notes he had managed to take.

"We'll have to find a curriculum outline and a few good textbooks," agreed Stephan with a wide yawn.

"Study group on Wednesday after lunch?" suggested Terry.

"For sure," Michael agreed.

"It wasn't that bad," said Hermione rolling her eyes.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that," said Anthony.

"Maybe Terry can charm my jailer into handing over her notes. She seems like the type to have them all filed away neatly somewhere," suggested Harry.

"Did any of you get the dates for the bit about Emetic the Evil and the Race for the Mace of Throklar?" she asked riffling through her notes.

"No," was the resounding chorus from the boys.

Hermione sighed.

"I thought not, I'll have to do some cross-referencing."

"Bloody hell woman! It's the first day!"

"Aren't you five supposed to be Ravenclaws? Ready mind. Wit and learning. Ringing any bells?" asked Hermione archly.

"Alright Mione, let's not alienate the nice boys in blue," Terry intervened before any of them could deliver their stinging retorts.

"We have to go this way now anyway, and we'd better hurry or we'll be late," Neville said suddenly, looking up from where he'd been consulting his map, "See you guys at lunch, or in Charms."

The three Gryffindors parted way with the five Ravenclaws dashing to catch a staircase that looked like it was gearing up to move. The boys continued up another short flight of stairs and most of the way down a corridor to the Transfiguration classroom. The Slytherins were all mostly there already and had claimed the side of the classroom near the windows.

At precisely half past eleven McGonagall strode through the door and shut it behind her and then started her class with a few words of warning.

"Transfiguration is one of the most difficult and dangerous branches of magic you will be studying at Hogwarts," she said seriously, "Anyone found messing around in my class will leave and they won't come back. You have been warned."

Then with a few sharp movements of her wand she turned her desk into a pig and back. The first years were then informed that they wouldn't be doing inanimate to animate transfiguration until much later in their studies. This preceded a round of long complicated note taking and a half-hour of frustration as they tried to turn matchsticks into needles.

Thanks to Hermione and her long-winded ramble before History of Magic class the five Ravenclaws were each able to get their matchsticks pointed, though only Michael managed to turn his silver as well, and they earned ten points all told.

Malfoy spent the entire class scowling at the side of Harry's neck making it prickle uncomfortably and Harry took a certain vindictive pleasure in imagining the frustrated look on the blond's face even as he continued to ignore him. He didn't know what Malfoy might try next, or whether it would be an act to win his friendship or cement their status as enemies this time, but he did know that it was going to be highly amusing to watch his reactions as Harry continued to play hard to get. Stephan and Michael were more concerned and kept on shooting nervous glances between Harry and Malfoy.

Lunch was just as grandiose an affair as the feast the night before and breakfast that morning had been and Harry wondered just who was cooking all this food and how on earth they found the time and what they did with the leftovers. Inquiries to the purebloods in the group revealed that the culprits were creatures called House Elves.

Since Penelope was giving them all warning looks from where she was sitting with a group of upper year girls the Gryffindors didn't even attempt to sit together with the Ravenclaws at their table. Instead they all took their lunch out into the brisk September air and sitting huddled on the stone benches in the courtyard, vowed to learn warming charms as soon as humanly possible.


	4. Chapter 4

**I Want to Go Home**

**Chapter Four: Escape Attempt**

**Disclaimer:** Again, I don't own Harry Potter or "I Want to Go Home". Anything you recognize is not mine!

**Author's Notes: **Thanks to everyone who took the time to review, alert and favorite! You guys are awesome to the nth degree! Now with out further ado, read on!

* * *

Harry lay very still in under the soft eiderdown of his comforter a dark scowl that would have never graced his expressionless face in public twisting his lips. He'd spent another night tossing and turning, vague nightmares keeping him from falling properly and peacefully asleep.

He'd also spent a disgustingly productive night. His transfiguration homework was all complete and in an attempt to bore himself to sleep he'd read through no less than five chapters of his History of Magic textbook before switching to Potions. That had done the trick but he was jolted awake not three hours later and had been alternately dozing and glaring at the inside of the blue velvet hangings that shielded him from the rest of the world ever since.

He reached over to his pillow, grabbed his watch and pressed the button that backlit the display. The blinking block numbers read five twenty-seven for a brief moment before switching over to read five twenty-eight.

Harry's scowl darkened. He'd slept a grand total of four hours. His eyes felt crusted and tired and his head throbbed with muzzy pressure. He'd had enough.

He threw back the covers with an annoyed flick of his wrist and climbed out of bed, shinnying out of his pajamas carelessly leaving them to pool on the floor and grabbing the first set of clean clothing to hand, a pair of uniform trousers, a white button up shirt and the sweater his grandmother had knitted for him. He laced his trainers tighter than he normally would have, his hands and motions tight with irritability, and gathered up the few items he couldn't replace and shoved them into his book bag.

He took a sheet of paper from one of his spiral ringed notebooks and penned a short note explaining to his dorm mates that he'd gone home and not to worry and signed it with an elegant flourish. A murmured word and a wave of his wand affixed it to his bed hangings with a sticking charm. Harry stood back to admire his work for a moment and then with a satisfied nod he gathered up his book bag and left the dorm.

Penelope wasn't in the common room when Harry entered and the few studious upper year students that were paid him no mind, engrossed in their reading or asleep at their desks. He slipped out without incident and made his way along the now familiar route from the tower down to the Great Hall dodging down a different corridor and slipping out into the stone courtyard where he'd had lunch with the others just yesterday.

The morning air was chilly and the fog hanging in the pre-dawn haze made the grass slick with droplets of dew that soaked through the hems of his pants. Harry shivered a bit and pulled his wand out of his pocket to cast the warming charm Hermione had found for them in the Standard Book of Spells Grade One. Harry had thought it a simple enough charm to master but the others hadn't been able to manage it even after an afternoon and evening of practice.

Harry scowled darkly at the slender bit of wood and tucked it back away. It was the same with magic as it was with sports and school, he was talented, probably disgustingly so if the speed in which he mastered the warming charm and perfected the transfiguration of his matchstick into a needle was anything to go by. If he wanted to learn magic he could just as easily learn it through self-study at home as in Hogwarts, it was well past time he went home.

Harry set off across the rolling lawns of the Hogwarts grounds with a determined, purposeful stride, his face set in a brief expression of determination before he let it bleed from his face leaving it in its familiar blank mask. He'd plotted his route around the lake from the tower and he remembered the trek down to the boats from the train station well enough that he was supremely confident he could find his way. There was a pouch of wizarding gold at the bottom of his book bag, so after he'd made his way back to Hogsmeade station it was a simple matter of buying a ticket back to London and calling his parents to come pick him up from King's Cross.

His mother would be disappointed at first, of course, but this wasn't the first time one of her schemes to socialize him had come to a premature stop and she would get over it.

Harry slung the wide leather strap of his book bag crosswise over his chest and shoulder and broke into a light jog that lengthened by inches into the ground eating lope of a talented cross country runner.

"Ho there!" cried a familiar booming, good-natured voice.

Harry slowed, more than halfway around the lake, and sighed a bit. Hagrid, the giant of a man who'd led the first years across the lake and who was also the Hogwarts groundskeeper was waving at him with one of his impossibly large hands.

"Good morning," said Harry with a polite nod.

"Yer up a mite early there 'Arry," said Hagrid.

"Yes," agreed Harry with a nod.

"Out fer a bit o' walkin'?" Hagrid asked.

"You could say that."

A thought seemed to occur to Hagrid because suddenly he frowned and narrowed his beetle black eyes at Harry with obvious suspicion.

"Yer not tryin' ter run off again are yeh?"

"I am," said Harry without any apparent concern.

Hagrid seemed taken aback by Harry's bald-faced admission.

"Here now, yeh can't jus' run off without a word o' warnin'. Matter o' fact, yeh can't run off at all. S'not safe, yeh could get hurt or lost an' no one would know where yeh was," Hagrid admonished.

"I left a note," said Harry, a bit annoyed that the over-large man didn't think him sensible enough to at least inform someone of his whereabouts.

"Well, that's summat at least," said Hagrid taking him by the shoulder with one of his massive hands and turning him around and leading him back in the direction of Hogwarts, "Now then 'Arry, I know it's hard, bein' away from yer family an' all tha' but yeh've got ter give this place a chance."

"Do I?" said Harry mildly.

"Yeh feel tha' way now but yer jus' a bit homesick, s'all," he insisted, "Once yeh set yer mind to yer studies an' yer new friends yeh'll be alrigh'."

"That could very well be true," said Harry.

"Tell yeh what, you come by me hut on Friday after yer classes, we'll 'ave a spot o' tea, you can bring yer friends if yeh like."

"I'm sure they'd like that."

"Here now, we're in sight o' the castle now, best get a move on or yeh'll miss yer chance at breakfast."

Dutifully Harry trotted back across the lawn on the other side of the lake under Hagrid's watchful eye and re-entered through the courtyard door. He frowned thoughtfully once he was out from under the groundskeeper's gaze. He'd messed up, he could admit it. He'd acted rashly and hadn't taken the proper precautions to avoid capture and now he'd lost the element of surprise. It would be more difficult to escape now Harry was certain. Hagrid, he thought, seemed the sort of person who wouldn't want to get a supposedly homesick student in trouble and he doubted that the man would say anything to the staff but he would still be watching out for him now and Harry route to the train station at Hogsmeade took him right past his little cabin on the edge of the forest.

Harry sighed and re-traced his step back up to Ravenclaw tower. He'd been gone for a little over a half an hour and the tower was beginning to stir as student hauled themselves out of their beds and started making themselves ready for the day.

In his own dormitory the boys were still asleep and hadn't seen his note, which was a small relief because he would look quite foolish indeed if they had seen it. Resentfully he upended the contents of his book bag back into his trunk and replaced them with the books he needed for class. He then slipped into his grey sweater vest with its blue and bronze striped edging and went about the business of tying his tie. He then slipped his robes into his book bag as he'd seen some of the upper year students doing in between classes and checked his watch.

It wasn't even six thirty yet. None of the other Ravenclaw boys would thank him for waking them so once again Harry left the dormitory, this time with the intention of going down to breakfast and perhaps trying to make it through another chapter of his transfiguration textbook.

"Where were you this morning?" demanded Penelope without preamble as he entered the common room, she had fixed him with a stern glare her hands on her hips as she tapped her foot with annoyance or expectation, Harry couldn't tell which.

"At what time?"

"Don't try to beat around the bush with me Potter, Dave Hatton saw you come in a good twenty minutes ago. Where were you?"

"I was jogging," said Harry.

"Jogging," said Penelope, arching a skeptical brow.

"Jogging," Harry confirmed with a nod, "Around the lake. I met Hagrid on the grounds."

"Potter," she said warningly, "If you're lying to me, Morgana knows, you will not like the consequences."

"I don't lie," said Harry mildly.

Penelope gave him a sharp look and then harrumphed in reluctant satisfaction.

"Where are your robes?" she demanded a moment later.

"There in my bag."

"Why aren't they on your person Potter?" Penelope all but growled.

"I don't like them," Harry explained simply, "I'll put them on before I go to class. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to breakfast."

"Wait a minute I'm coming with you."

Penelope turned to gather her books together and slide them into her bag carefully, grunting at its weight as she slung it over one slender shoulder.

"I don't need an escort," said Harry as they left the common room.

"I beg to differ," snorted Penelope, "If I take my eyes off you for a second who knows what kind of mischief you and your little pack of friends will get up to."

They made the rest of the walk in silence and when they reached the Great Hall they settled into the same seats they'd occupied the previous day, opened their respective books and tucked into a breakfast of yogurt, fruit and toast with jam and butter on thickly sliced bread. Though the meal was delicious it was made somewhat less enjoyable by the weight of Penelope's stare.

"Harry!" called Hermione a short while later bouncing up to the Ravenclaw table with impunity, Terry and Neville trailing behind her.

Harry had the sinking feeling that this was the beginning of a ritual. At this rate his only solitude would come when he was tossing and turning in bed at night and in the wee hours of the morning when he was in the bathroom.

The bushy haired Gryffindor girl sat herself next to Harry, just as she had yesterday, and, just as they had yesterday, Terry and Neville took seats on Harry's other side.

"I am really going to have to speak to Percy about you three," said Penelope looking up from her book with a sigh, "This sort of intermingling between the houses at mealtimes simply isn't done," she said giving Terry and the slumped over Neville looks of rigid disapproval.

"Good morning to you too, Penelope. I hope you slept well."

"Hermione," greeted Penelope with somewhat less disapproval, "How were your classes yesterday?"

That was all the prompting Hermione needed to launch into a very long, very fast discourse about both what happened in class and her further studies based on what had happened in class. With Hermione so occupied, Terry turned to Harry with a grin.

"I can hardly believe she wasn't in Ravenclaw, I bet she bribed the hat or something," he said a bit of good-natured teasing coloring his voice, "And look at you already reading ahead."

"I found myself with some free time on my hands this morning. I didn't see how it could hurt."

"Too right, McGonagall's lessons are way over my head in some places."

"At least you understand some of it," grumbled Neville reaching for a piece of bacon, "I can't make heads or tails of my notes and you know she assigned me all that extra practice and I still haven't managed to turn my matchstick into anything even remotely resembling a needle."

"That's alright Nev," said Terry giving his shoulder a consolatory pat, "None of us managed the full transfiguration either."

"If you say so," said Neville a bit glumly, chewing systematically through his bacon.

"I do say so," Terry said in a tone that brooked no further argument.

Harry didn't think it would be prudent to correct Terry's assumption so he concentrated on his toast for a minute. The Ravenclaw table was filling up with students who shot the three Gryffindor first years odd looks and muttered to themselves but though Penelope grimaced she didn't shoo them away. She must have been enjoying the company despite herself Harry decided, noticing that though Penelope still had her book out she hadn't glanced down at it for several minutes and was in fact following their conversation with rapt attention.

"Hey Harry, why don't you drag those lazy bums you call dorm mates out of bed with you in the morning?" he asked a moment later.

"Yeah, it must be pretty boring with only you and Penelope," added Neville, clearly glad of the subject change.

"They like to sleep in," shrugged Harry, "Who can blame them?"

"I don't understand it at all," Hermione butted in, "There is so much to learn that I can hardly bear to sleep at all!"

"Not everyone is quite so…er—devoted as you though Hermione," said Terry reasonably.

"I know and it really is a pity," she sighed a little wistfully.

As much as Terry tried to help her bridge the gap and smooth the way for her interactions with the other students it seemed that Hermione was still very much aware that there was a gap. Harry could empathize but he said nothing more than: "It's past seven thirty. They should be down soon enough."

He took another slice of toast and busied himself slathering jam and butter over the surface. Terry shot him a look that Harry was careful to ignore and Hermione quickly changed the topic, brightening once more.

"Oh did you see the notice Harry?" she asked excitedly.

"Apparently not."

"Flying lessons start tomorrow!"

Harry froze at her declaration. It felt as though his throat had closed up on him and the bottom had dropped out of his stomach and he had to make an effort to swallow his last bite of toast.

"Really?" he said, and he was pleased to note that his voice was just as mild and unconcerned as ever.

"Yes, you're ever so lucky Harry, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff have their lessons tomorrow in the morning—"

"We're with Slytherin on the Thursday after Herbology," Terry interjected a bit grimly.

"I'm a little bit nervous, of course, I mean I've never even considered flying on a broom before this, but it is a mandatory part of the curriculum. In any case, I've been to the library just this morning and I picked up an excellent book called _Quidditch Through the Ages _so I'm certain I'll have no problems."

"That's where you were this morning, the library!" exclaimed Neville, almost choking on his pumpkin juice.

"Of course," said Hermione archly, "Where else would I be?"

"Jogging, perhaps?" suggested Penelope.

Hermione grimaced a bit.

"Jogging isn't really my area, actually sports in general aren't really my area but I have a feeling that flying will be different, after all you don't really have to play quidditch if you just want to fly," she said.

"Of course not," agreed Penelope, "A leisurely flight around the grounds is a perfectly acceptable way to make use of your lessons."

Harry tamped down on a shudder. It wasn't necessarily the flying part of the whole thing that was bothering him, in fact, that bit sounded almost nice, but he wasn't at all keen on the idea that there would be nothing keeping him from plummeting to the ground but a glorified stick. He would have to refuse to participate, it would upset the professors and cause a fuss but there was no way in hell they were getting him on a broomstick without a fight.

"Speaking of leisurely, where are Kevin, Michael, Stephan and Anthony? If they don't get down here soon they won't be able to have breakfast," said Hermione with a frown.

"There they are," said Neville as the rest of the first year Ravenclaw boys hurried over to the table.

"Is there bacon left?" demanded Michael without preamble.

"Saved you some," said Terry sliding his plate over to his friend with a grin.

"You are a god," Michael declared tucking in with gusto.

Kevin, Stephan and Anthony settled on Penelope's side of the table and helped themselves to the nearest dishes, scarfing back their breakfast with only a passing regard for table manners.

"That is repulsive," said Hermione wrinkling her nose as Kevin hunched over his plate and began shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth at top speed.

"No time to eat properly," said Anthony shoving a folded piece of toast with marmalade into his mouth all in one go.

"Still," said Penelope leaning away from the blond.

The four Ravenclaws managed to get enough food in them to keep them from starving until lunch and they bid goodbye to the Gryffindor trio and Penelope as they made their way down to the greenhouses for Herbology.

They were a bit later than they had been the day before and as a result, Harry noted, Malfoy looked more than a bit put out. Clearly he'd looked forward to the opportunity to try and one-up Harry and was not happy that his plans, whatever they happened to be, had been spoiled. Harry took a certain amount of pleasure from that observation. It was good to know that someone other than him was having a frustrating morning.

Professor Sprout had them taking long notes about the ways to recognize dormant magical species from their muggle counterparts and then had them go around to different flower beds in small groups and try to identify which flowers were magical and which ones weren't. Even with the notes in front of them the first years found this difficult as most of them simply had no real experience dealing directly with plants.

Harry, however, had spent a great many hours weeding his mother's garden for his transgressions and was able to help walk his group members through the classification of the plants and earn them five points for Ravenclaw for being the first team to finish and another five points for having a perfect set of classifications.

Kevin was still crowing about it excitedly when they met up with Hermione, Neville and Terry in front of History of Magic.

"—you should have seen the sour look on Malfoy's face, it was brilliant!"

"Do you like plants Harry?" asked Neville as they took their seats.

"Well enough I suppose," shrugged Harry, eying his notebook contemplatively and wondering if he could charm the think to take dictation somehow and just sleep through class.

"I have a greenhouse at home that my gran lets me muck around with," said Neville, "It's only been three days and I miss it already. Do you think Professor Sprout would let me help out after classes and such? Three hours a week in Herbology hardly seems like any time at all."

"Don't see why not," shrugged Stephen not even bothering with parchment or a quill, "She should be glad of the help, cause I don't expect many people are lining up to get mocked by a bunch of posies while they spread manure on the beds and pull out the same upstart weeds every other day."

"You should ask her tonight after dinner," suggested Anthony.

"I agree, I think it's a great idea, just remember to hose yourself off before trekking dirt and manure all through the dorm," added Terry.

"I was wondering if we should get involved in clubs and things," said Hermione, "I've been looking through the club registry and there aren't that many really, it seems that most of the school spirit is generated through quidditch."

"It's really too bad first years can't try out for the teams," sighed Stephan pillowing his head on his arms.

Kevin was mirroring the action next to him.

"What are you two doing?" hissed Hermione scandalized as she brought out her notes from the day before and neatly dated and titled a new sheet of parchment.

"Sleeping," said Kevin as Binns began his lecture in the same dull droning voice as yesterday, a few of the Ravenclaw girls and Hermione were the only ones who looked as though they were going to even bother trying to take notes, everyone else was just falling into a stupor, or like Kevin and Stephan going straight to sleep.

"You can't sleep through class!"

"Watch me."

Hermione scowled, but with a sniff turned to her notes, not wanting to miss anything.

Harry held out for a good twenty minutes taking sporadic notes, his usually impeccable handwriting devolving into an illegible scrawl and then finally two sleepless nights caught up to him and he fell asleep.

It seemed like only moments later that he was being prodded awake and he let out an uncharacteristic groan of protest, batting vaguely at the hand poking at him.

"Come on Harry, we're going to be late for defense," insisted a voice.

Harry blinked his eyes open blearily and saw that the classroom had already emptied except for his dorm mates, Anthony was poking his ribs and Harry squirmed away shooting the blond boy a glare as a brief flicker of annoyance crossed his features before he could school them into their customary blankness.

Still Anthony and Michael behind him caught a glimpse of his expressions and exchanged a surprised look.

Annoyed with himself at his lack of self-control and at the whole situation for making him sleep deprived in the first place Harry gathered up his things and swept out of the history classroom without a word.

"Well then, someone's cranky in the mornings isn't he," snorted Stephan as the four other boys hurried to catch up.

"What do you reckon defense is going to be like?" asked Kevin.

"As long as it's more interesting than History I don't particularly care," said Michael rolling his shoulders to work out some of the kinks that came with sleeping on a desk.

"The subject itself is interesting, but I don't think Quirrell is going to do it justice," said Stephan with a sigh, "The upper years say that he's useless."

"Maybe we should take a leaf out of Hermione's book and get started on the self-study if half the teachers at this school are going to be useless, yeah?" suggested Kevin.

"We should at least give the poor man a chance," said Anthony, "Maybe it won't be that bad."

"I have faith," said Harry.

As some of the last people into the defense classroom the five Ravenclaws were forced to take their seats near the front of the room and they quickly realized that Harry was correct in his assessment.

Quirrell was a tall and young and he might have been handsome if he wasn't so very pale and thin. He had a terrible stutter and trembled like a leaf in a high breeze as he faced his students like he expected them to jump up and eat him.

"G-g-good m-morning class, I am P-p-professor Quirrell. W-w-w-welcome to D-d-defense Against the D-d-d-dark Arts."

Much like in Harry's primary schools Quirrell followed a long and torturous roll call with a bit of an introduction about himself and his qualifications. He explained to the class that he'd received his turban from an African prince after ridding his village of a troublesome zombie.

"Just the one zombie?" asked Harry, raising his hand politely, he was under the impression after all that zombies tended to move in groups, anything from packs to hordes and that where there was one a great deal more were often waiting in the wings to eat your flesh.

"W-w-well y-y-yes," answered Quirrell seemingly taken aback by the question.

"Oh, I see."

"How did you defeat it Professor?" asked Kevin eagerly, "Did you use magic or did you have to fight it off?"

"I-I-I…t-t-that is to s-say, I r-really d-d-don't think it's ap-p-p-propriate…"

That evasion set the Slytherins to sneering and confirmed everyone's suspicions that Quirrell was going to be absolute rubbish as a teacher.

Seeming to understand that he'd blundered, Quirrell quickly tapped his wand to the board and set them to copying notes on the areas of the world most affected by the dark arts. The classroom was dark and stuffy and reeked of garlic and rot and by the end of the lesson Harry's head was throbbing abominably and he was more resolved than ever to escape Hogwarts.

Malfoy tried to corner him again after class but the crowds in the corridors were too thick and Harry was able to slip down to lunch unmolested after which he, Stephan, Kevin, Michael and Anthony slipped out into the courtyard to eat with the trio from Gryffindor.

He would go tomorrow morning, he decided, biting into his ham and cheese sandwich while the rest of his group chattered away about lessons around a cheery little jar of bluebell flames Hermione had conjured to keep them warm.

* * *

**AN: **Hey guys, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

I just wanted to take a moment to say thanks to the wonderful Anrheithwyr. As you may or may not remember this story was written for her What if? Competition on HPCF and it won Best Multi-Chap after the judging took place on May 2nd. Without her wonderful competition I can safely say this story would not be what it is today.

Now that you've come to the end of the story please feel free to direct your attention to the review box below! See you on the next go around!


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